This is a murder weapon.
This is a neutron star,
one billion pounds in a teaspoon.
I’m not guilty.
This is a murder weapon.
He still screams help me
somewhere beneath my pillow,
from the black cave of the barrel.
This murder weapon
left oil in my mouth,
but I am a famous coward.
Take this weight off my hands.
Point it at me.
Connect the dots
of his voice, and the silence
of starless space behind me.